


Tamura

by evocates



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Historical Accuracy, Historical Reenactment, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Well, he doesn’t have to come back. The One-Eyed Dragon can see perfectly well without his Right Eye now. </i>Not to worry.” Kojuurou, and the limitlessness of devotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tamura

Rain.

Rain that obscured, pouring down as if the skies were crying, or raging, thunder crackling, lightning snapping, breaking the clouds into pieces like the heavy footsteps of wild children running across them. Kojuurou ducked his head, shading his eyes from the rain with the use of a waxed straw hat, his swords bumping against his hip with every step he took.

It was a dangerous night to travel alone, because the rain hid the dark silhouettes of assassins by creating endless shadows on the ground; its rapid, _pitter-patter_ was like the low beats of endless drums, beating a song worthy to drive demons away together with the howling winds. It all roared within his ears and he couldn’t hear his own footsteps, much less the ones of trained killers whose feet made almost no sound. Thunderstorms like these were when Lords and their retainers hid behind closed doors, lifting their long sleeves to their eyes to shade them from the brightness of the lightning, shaking their heads morosely as their eardrums threatened to burst from thunder.

But Kojuurou was a man who was used to a dragon’s charge; used to the cacophony of a hundred, a thousand blades clashing against each other all at once, a hundred of screams and shouts ringing out to the skies, accompanied by the heavy sound of thousands of birds scared into flight.

He might not boast of it, might not show it with his carefully-weighted words and measured carriage, but Kojuurou was a man who lived and breathed on the battlefield; who though capable with a pen in his hand would always be far more comfortable with the far rougher and heavier hilt of the sword. So a simple thunderstorm would not deter him from his destination, not when the words he had to say weighted so heavily at the back of his throat. Not when the man he was rushing towards meant more to Kojuurou than his own family, his own clan.

A breath. Kojuurou’s lips parted, blowing out a wisp of air that clouded into fog in front of him, and he shivered slightly. But he didn’t let his steps slow, not even as the winds whipped up even more. His hat was nearly blown away, but he held on to it even as his skin started to crawl with the cold, muscles shivering, trying to keep heat in his body. He was being irrational, he knew, almost reckless, behaving more like the man he was rushing to see rather than Kojuurou himself, and yet...

And yet the panic that rushed at him and gripped him by the throat, choking his air out of his lungs the moment he had heard the news was real. Kojuurou had immediately dressed, grabbing a coat and a hat before rushing out of his own family’s estate, uncaring that the skies were darkening, that it was foolish for him to do this. But there were times in which Kojuurou was allowed to be irrational, to let that emotion that characterised his entire being take over his mind.

His devotion could be said to be entirely irrational. There was no real logic to it, for though Kojuurou could list out all of the points that made his Lord a man worth serving, he could list out an even longer list of his failings and weakness.

He drew up close to the gates, panting slightly and nodding to the guards who were staying huddled beneath their posts, trying to check some shelter from the heavy rains. Their eyes widened with recognition, lips parting to form a greeting ( _Katakura-sama!_ ) but it was snatched away by the wind, the sound dissipating immediately. They waved him in, pulling open the gates and made to ask, their eyes wide as they stared at him as if he had gone mad.

And perhaps he had. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have waited until the next morning, and to arrive here in a palanquin rather than to run all the way here and risk catching a cold. Yet Kojuurou would not have waited, because he simply could not risk his Lord— he shook his head, dislodging those thoughts like dust from his mind.

He refused to accept the possibility.

The main doors of the Date mansion were as familiar as ever. Kojuurou stopped in front of them, his feet finally slowing down after hours of brisk walking, and his fingers trembled slightly above the wood of the door from the cold. He hesitated, tendrils of doubt wrapping around his mind, nearly strangling him. But he couldn’t afford such things, so he only shook his head, clenching his hand into the fist and pushed against the doors, walking inside, water sloshing around his feet. His _tabi_ had long been soaked through.

The steps down to the doors leading to his Lord’s quarters were as familiar as ever – Kojuurou had taken this route every single night until a month or so ago. His footsteps echoed on the wood, and he made a note to apologise to the servants tomorrow morn for splashing water everywhere. That was, if his Lord allowed him to stay.

He stood in front of the wooden sliding doors, raising a hand. His breath caught in his throat, and he almost let it fall, almost turned back because his Lord might be asleep, or he might be busy—

His thought cut itself off, half-formed in his mind when the doors slammed open and Masamune, dressed only in his night yukata, stood in front of him.

“Masamune-sama,” Kojuurou almost yelped from the surprise, eyes widening even though he didn’t take a step back. Simply because he would always stand his ground, especially with this man. Surrender was never the way of Oushuu.

“Kojuurou,” Masamune said, their words tripping over each other, crashing and colliding like a pair of clumsy fools. His one eye was wide, but he hid his surprise quickly enough, lips curving upwards in a small, sharp smirk. All edges tinged with viciousness, a grin that was meant to provoke, to urge Kojuurou to push himself further. To prove him wrong.

“Why are you here? Lords of their own castles don’t visit other Lords in the middle of the night, _you know_?”

A gift from Hideyoshi, for the efforts that Kojuurou had put in during the Siege of Odawara against the Hojo Clan. A gift that was more a curse, and in Kojuurou’s head the words of the messenger still echoed, over and over again.

 _“Well, he doesn’t have to come back. The One-Eyed Dragon can see perfectly well without his Right Eye now._ Not to worry.”

Kojuurou clenched his hands by his side, breathed in and fought down the shivers that threatened to wreck his frame. He ducked his head, stepped backwards, out into the rain again before he sank down on one knee, bowing his head. When he spoke, his voice was clear and bright, piercing through the crashing storm of the raindrops falling around them.

“I have returned the fief of Tamura to Toyotomi Hideyoshi-dono, Masamune-sama,” he said, and his voice was steady, strong, with all the sincerity and strength he could muster. “I, Kojuurou, have no need for it.”

Footstep, slow and steady, approaching the edge of the walkway, just a step away to be drenched by the rain. A single word:

“Why?”

Kojuurou lifted his head, catching Masamune’s gaze with his own. And he let his shields fall, tore his composure apart like a million paper masks, letting the corpses fall all around him even as he reached a hand up and brushed sopping wet hair out of his brightly burning eyes.

“Because I desire nothing than to serve you, my Lord.” A pause, and Masamune did not speak, his silence almost regal and Kojuurou thought that this was almost ironic – here he was, as rash and irrational as Masamune usually was, while his Lord had taken all of Kojuurou’s composure for his own. “If Masamune-sama will have me, I, Kojuurou, will gladly serve you for all of my life.”

A pause; a stretch of silence that seemed to last for all eternity. Kojuurou held his breath, kept his gaze on Masamune, trying to read the shifting light in that one fierce eye.

Masamune smiled.

Another moment, then the slick unsheathing of his sword. It was pointed straight at Kojuurou’s throat, the naked blade pressing dangerously against his skin even the rain water slid down its length, dripping against Kojuurou’s kimono. But he didn’t move, didn’t cringe or move away or even blink from either the cold or the blade, because he knew his Lord. He knew that Masamune would not be happy with simple words, and that this was the greatest test he would ever be given.

And it was nothing but that. Kojuurou could read Masamune’s intentions from his smile, his stance. It was a little softer at the edges, his shoulders smoothed out and not hunched inwards. And Kojuurou breathed a little easier, the skin of his throat trembling against the blade because those tiny signs contained all of the gentleness that Masamune possessed, hidden beneath his usual pride and aggression and ruthlessness. There was a little relief as well, hidden in the tiniest crinkle at the corner of his eye, in the loosening of the fist by his side. Little things that Kojuurou had picked up about his Lord’s mannerisms in all the years he had served him.

“Get up, Kojuurou,” a command before he sheathed his sword again, and Kojuurou unfolded his legs, standing up and moving towards his Lord, and Masamune moved back almost as if on instinct, letting Kojuurou duck beneath the thatched roof to hide from the rain.

As if it had been waiting with bated breath for their conversation to end, the thunder roared, cracking so loudly that Masamune winced slightly, shaking his head. “Come inside,” and he cocked a grin. “Looks like you were so desperate to tell me this that you ran through the rain, huh?”

But there was an appreciation in his eyes that belied those words, and Kojuurou ducked his head, the tension that had twisted his muscles into knots snapping, crushed into powder and scattering on the ground.

“Of course, Masamune-sama.”

***

Candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the walls as he walked past them, carrying the lantern in one hand. With the other, Kojuurou wiped a long cloth through his wet hair, having changed into dried clothes that the servants had retrieved from his quarters. He had taken the time to smell them before pulling them on, and had noted the slightly musty smell of an unaired room.

He had been gone from the estate for three weeks, taking care of the affairs that the Tamura fief and setting things into order as much as he could before he had given it right back to Hideyoshi—well, not yet, for the letter still rested on his writing desk, sealed and to be sent in the morning. But Kojuurou knew that no matter what Hideyoshi’s answer would be, he would still stay by his decision to give up the lands. Even though it meant that his clan would receive greater prestige, even though it would mean that he would become a _daimyo_ , on equal level with Masamune... Kojuurou would refuse it. And he would consider refusing it no matter how often he was offered it, or something like it.

The Right Eye of the Dragon, after all, could not leave the One-Eyed Dragon’s side. He had already been negligent enough these past three weeks.

He stopped in front of Masamune’s doors once more, reaching out to slide them open. Then, he stepped inside, closing them behind him with an echoing _thud_.

His Lord did not look up from the candle where he was holding his wet sleeve above, letting the heat from the flame dry out the water rather than changing entirely. A sheaf of papers laid at his right, weighted down by a piece of carved wood in the shape of the Date crest.

Kojuurou blew out the light within his lantern, stepping over to sit by Masamune’s side. Sharp eyes immediately caught sight of the calligraphy, and Kojuurou had to smile at the characteristic near-scrawl, the way the _kana_ looked as if they had been carved out with a sword rather than written with a brush.

“Masamune-sama,” a soft murmur as he seated himself at Masamune’s right. His movements were unobtrusive, a little careful like he was a hunter stepping around a sleeping dragon to get to the treasure behind it.

Masamune did not answer, merely letting the silence stretch between them, but Kojuurou was used to that; used to the silence between them that spoke just as well as words themselves, as well as their swords always did between the two of them. Words were cheap, far too full of possibilities for lies, and Kojuurou knew best of all how words could be manipulated, shifted, changed until the meanings of them had been entirely warped.

So he simply kept his silence, sitting motionless before he breathed out, reaching out to curl his fingers around Masamune’s sleeve, lifting it up slightly to stop the flames from burning it—and Kojuurou didn’t even blink when Masamune shifted, his wrist twisting as he grabbed onto Kojuurou’s, gripping onto his hand and turning to him.

His blue eye shone brightly underneath the candle’s light, and Kojuurou read the expression in them immediately even before Masamune’s lips part: “ _Kojuurou_ ,” a strangled little sound full of emotions so tangled together that it was like a messy ball of string, but Kojuurou knew every emotion, knew that his perceived betrayal had cut far deeper into his Lord’s heart than he would ever outwardly show.

For it _was_ a betrayal, no matter how pretty words could make it seem to not be; how, perhaps, one could point out that he had no choice but to accept the gift that the One Under Heaven had bestowed upon him. Because Kojuurou had once vowed to stay forever by Masamune’s side; for his words just now was simply a renewal of those first words he had spoken to his Lord, before he was _Masamune_. When he was simply _Bontenmaru_.

A Dragon might be able to live without his Right Eye, but it didn’t mean that he would like to. No man, after all, would like having to live only with half his sight.

Kojuurou breathed out, keeping still for a moment before he leaned in, pressing their lips together. A warm, chaste kiss, feeling Masamune’s chapped lips against his own – lips dried and cracked by the winter’s chill, unprotected by the usual oils one would wet them with to prevent this. But Kojuurou was always the one to take care of such minor details, and without him here... guilt twisted at his insides, tangling them together.

But his thoughts were abruptly cut off, silenced immediately as Masamune moved, shifting until he was facing him, his hands coming up and pressing against Kojuurou’s shoulders. One hard push and Kojuurou let himself crash down towards the tatami mats, his hands reaching out to curl his fingers around Masamune’s yukata, pulling him even closer until their chests are pressing each other. Until he could feel his Lord’s heart thundering against his own ribcage, loud and roaring until it drowned out the still-pouring rain outside.

“ _Masamune-sama_ ,” the barest whisper of his voice, breathed out against Masamune’s lips when they pulled apart slightly. And Masamune grinned, tossing his head back as he sat up, spreading his legs out around Kojuurou’s hips, his yukata falling open around him to expose a pale neck and collarbones (perfectly crescent-shaped, Kojuurou thought). And Kojuurou leaned in, lips pressing against the pulse, feeling the thunder against his lips even as lightning flashed outside, illuminating the two of them in stark white light for a moment.

Kojuurou’s hands ran down his Lord’s back, sliding inside, skittering around the edges of his spine and Masamune hissed, all impatience as he bucked, rubbing their growing arousals against each other through their clothes. But Kojuurou refused to be moved, slowing down his pace even as one of his hands trailed its way downwards, tugging open Masamune’s obi and hooking around the hem of his underwear for a moment. Then, his fingers trailed down, clawing roughly against the front, causing Masamune to bite down on his lip, his head dropping backwards, a heavy pant escaping his lips.

Masamune smirked, still all sharp edges as he tugged Kojuurou’s yukata open, surging forward like a beast that had just sighted its prey. A dragon through and through, his teeth scraping across Kojuurou’s throat, biting down on the spot right at where the shoulder joined the neck, drawing blood and Kojuurou let a quiet groan escape, letting his head drop backwards. Not in surrender – this was a battle of wills, and Kojuurou had no intention of giving in so easily – but simply acquiescence, letting Masamune have his way for this, and only this.

In return, his fingers curved, digging into Masamune’s underwear, his blunt fingernails scraping along the sides of the cloth that was still keeping the heavy bulge back. There was no need for gentleness here, because Masamune was a dragon and Kojuurou was as well, and he knew his Lord well enough that surrender was never an option with him. Because submission was something that bored Masamune the most – his Lord wanted to conquer, to take over, and to offer him a challenge to that was the best gift one could give.

And Kojuurou gave the best he could, thrusting upwards against Masamune, all wild abandon and open desire. His hands tugged at Masamune’s underwear, pulling it open and dragging the rough cloth along the underside. Kojuurou’s usual grace and composure had almost entirely disappeared, replaced by his naked self – the unvarnished warrior that was as fierce on the battlefield as his Lord; the man who was called a Dragon himself.

Only Masamune could draw this side out of him; could have him abandoning his usual rationality and control and simply let his desires run wild, igniting the fire that ran along his nerves and crept underneath his skin. Kojuurou’s breath was hot against Masamune’s throat, all heat and wetness, his hands – so callused by holding a sword and tending to the fields – curling around Masamune’s erection, stroking and squeezing with barely any technique. Only a need that could not be denied. That neither of them would ever want to be denied.

“You’re mine,” Masamune growled, all lust-roughened voice as he thrust into Kojuurou’s hand, his own fingers clawing their ways down Kojuurou’s back, marking him with dark red trails, almost drawing blood. “ _Mine_. My Right Eye.”

“Yours,” Kojuurou agreed readily even as he bit down on Masamune’s collarbone, marking it with a bruise of his own. _His_ Lord; _his_ Masamune-sama. Though Kojuurou shared him with the whole of Oushuu, for he was their Lord and not his own, he knew that Masamune would show this face only to him. Not even his wife or his concubines or mistresses would ever see him this wild, this uncontrolled, and Kojuurou crashed their lips together, darting a tongue out and lick along the roof of Masamune’s mouth.

Claiming, claiming, _claiming_.

And a reassurance as well, an unspoken litany of _I won’t go, I won’t leave, I will never betray you_ repeated with every kiss, every stroke, and every thrust. A reaffirmation of Kojuurou’s never-wavering loyalty and devotion in his eyes, fixed onto Masamune’s gaze.

Masamune reached up, pulling away from the kiss as he grabbed onto his eyepatch, tugging hard enough at it to break the string that held it in place. He let it drop to the ground, exposing the sewn-shut eye and the speckling of smallpox scars that dotted the area – a sight that Kojuurou had seen before countless of times, yet a sight he was always thankful to be given the permission to see, simply because it proved that Masamune trusted him more than anyone else.

Trusted him enough to see the mark of his suffering, his pain and his almost-disgrace. Trusted him enough to let Kojuurou hold the dagger that eventually took out that eye that would have killed him. Trusted him in a world in which he couldn’t even trust the mother who birthed him, or the brother he had grown up with.

His hand clenched at the back of Masamune’s yukata, his other hand brushing away the lock of hair that fell over the unseeing eye. Then, Kojuurou breathed out, breath skittering across Masamune’s cheekbone before he leaned upwards to press dry lips against the scar, kissing against it gently, slowly, tracing the shape of it with his kisses. Masamune remained entirely still, heated breath ghosting across Kojuurou’s throat – a sudden, gentle lull amidst the harsh desperation.

“Masamune-sama,” his voice ghosted lightly across Masamune’s ear. “I, Kojuurou, will serve you as your Right Eye for as long as I live.”

“You’re not allowed to die,” his Lord hissed, ungentle as always because a dragon had never bothered with such things. He could only give everything his all, his claws sinking into Kojuurou’s back. “I need my Right Eye with me all my life, Kojuurou. _Get that_?”

There was no room to argue.

“Yes, my Lord,” Kojuurou breathed, trailing his kisses down Masamune’s cheek before he pressed their lips together again. Masamune deepened the kiss immediately, his hands fisting on the sleeves of Kojuurou’s yukata, pushing him down onto his back again as he straddled him, his hips canting upwards, towards Kojuurou’s hand. But Kojuurou had already known what he wanted, and so he stroked even faster, even harsher, their lips moulding against each other.

Masamune’s tongue brushed against him, his movements unpolished and a little desperate, thrusting harder and harder and Kojuurou’s own breathing stuttered out hard as Masamune’s ass dragged over his own still-covered erection. His free hand came up to grip around Masamune’s hair, knowing better than to beg, to give in, to ask his Lord to touch him because Masamune would do that in his own time.

And his Lord was nearing the edge already, his hands clawing against Kojuurou’s shoulder even as he panted against his mouth, their lips touching but it wasn’t a kiss because neither of them had the coordination for that at the moment. Kojuurou was moving purely by instinct, his desire having taken over, touching Masamune the way he remembered he liked being touched. Nails lightly pressing against the base, his thumb flicking against the slit, and Masamune buried his face in Kojuurou’s shoulder, a strangled moan of Kojuurou’s name escaping his lips before he came over Kojuurou’s hand.

A breath, two, Kojuurou held his own, barely resisting the urge to buck upwards, holding back his impatience. But his Lord knew him well enough, and his grin was sharp and almost mischievous even as he sat up, sweat-soaked hair mussed and sticking onto his cheeks, his eye wild. His desires might be satiated, but a dragon would need much more than that to be completely satisfied.

Kojuurou arched upwards, a soft gasp escaping his lips as Masamune’s hand slid into his underwear, curling around his cock and starting to pump. He bit down on his own lip, his hand turning into a claw at his side, nails digging into the tatami mat as pleasure suddenly took over his mind, whitewashing it entirely. He had been holding back for far too long, and now he could only sit up, pulling his Lord close and crashing their lips together again, breathing in the heat of Masamune’s mouth as he thrust up into his hand.

The waves of desire crashed onto him and Kojuurou could only gasp a hoarse “ _Masamune-sama_ ” in warning before he came, squeezing his eyes shut even though there was no need to – he couldn’t see anything anyway, with the white stars that had burst behind his eyes.

The two of them stayed together like this, pressed against of each other, breathing hard and inhaling the air that the other had exhaled. Kojuurou slowly opened his eyes, pressing his lips against Masamune’s scarred eye gently before pulling away.

“Stay here,” Masamune said, his voice barely audible even though the rain outside was finally slowing. Kojuurou knew immediately that he didn’t mean _here_ as Oushuu, as the Date mansion, but _here_ as in the room itself.

He closed his eyes, smiled, his next words breathed out lightly as he leaned his forehead against his Lord’s.

“As you wish, Masamune-sama.”

***

 _Tenshou Year 17: Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the One under Heaven, granted Katakura Kojuurou Kagetsuna, the Right Eye of the Dragon, the fifty thousand koku fief of Tamura for his efforts at the Siege of Odawara against the Hojo Clan. However, soon after taking possession of the fief, Katakura Kojuurou returned it, as a show of loyalty to his Lord, the One-Eyed Dragon Date Tojirou Masamune._

***

 _End_

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The incident described here really happened, as described in Kojuurou's [wiki page](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katakura_Kagetsuna).  
> 2\. Masamune's backstory is alluded in this fic. More details can be found on his [wiki page](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_Masamune), this [video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaaUr97O5Xo&feature=related) and this [gorgeous fic](http://seppuku-shiro.livejournal.com/37339.html#cutid1).  
> 3\. Bontenmaru is Masamune's childhood name. Tojirou is his casual name.  
> 4\. Kagetsuna is Kojuurou's 'real' name. 'Kojuurou' is simply a name taken up by all men of the Katakura clan. The tradition is actually started by Kojuurou himself, as he's the first 'Kojuurou'.  
> 5\. Sengoku Basara's Hideyoshi is vastly different from history's Hideyoshi, especially his role as Nobunaga's retainer. Masmaune kills him in his story mode in SB2, which kind of Fucks Things Up. But I chose to go for history in this fic and a minor fudging of canon. sob.


End file.
